


Captured

by Illa_omnia



Category: Voltron Legendary Defender, Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: Abuse, Ambiguity, Angst, Assult in later chapters, Betrayal, Blue Paladin Allura (Voltron), Cruel Lotor, Depressed Lance, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Galra Empire, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Langst, M/M, Mental Instability, Physical Abuse, Pidge is awesome, This Author Apologises, dubcon, lance is actually smart, lotor is a dick, no shiro clone, pre-season 3 canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-02-08 17:31:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12869541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illa_omnia/pseuds/Illa_omnia
Summary: After a surprise turn of events, Lance seems to join the Galra's side after abandoning his friends and his lion. Lance seems completely devoted and loyal to the Galra Empire, and his friends are left reeling and confused in the aftermath. Lance fights his way up the ranks of the Galra Empire while his friends scramble to find a viable replacement for the blue paladin. Written before season 3 - canon compliant until that point.





	1. The Capture

The mission was supposed to be simple. An easy in-and-out case; land on the planet, distract the guards, and help all the citizens escape. Nobody could have expected the imperial fleet to show up. And nobody was prepared. Pidge, Keith, Shiro, and Hunk were all close enough to the castle to get under the energy shield, but I was picking up the last load of refugees when the cadre struck. I sped towards the energy shield. Usually I would stay and fight; but there were civilians on my ship. Desperately, I took in my surroundings. Blue was faster than most of the ships, but there was one coming up on the side. If Allura was to open the shield, that ship would be able to get in the hole. I bit my lip; I trusted Blue to get himself and his passengers to safety, but I didn't trust the passengers to keep calm and not press any buttons to mess with Blue's systems.

"Hey Blue," I said softly. "I have to get you and these people to safety, but to do that I have to leave you. Can you close off your controls so the others on board don't mess with you?"

The only response I got was a soft whirring as the controls were covered by a blue energy shield. I smiled;

"Thanks boy."

Acting quickly, I made sure my bayard was connected to Blue while I told my passengers that I would be exiting the lion. I took a deep breath, and pressed the only button not under blue shield. The eject button. I was launched onto Blue's head, and I barely had enough time to get my bearings before the ships behind me started firing. Ducking and dodging, I held on for dear life as Blue maneuvered us into the perfect position. Carefully, I stood up and prepared to jump. The only ship fast enough to catch up to Blue was drawing to the side of Blue, and the flat surface of the side of the ship would be easy to grab onto. Pidge had shown us the blueprints of this model just last week. The secondary engine, the one that controls the power for maneuvers and gravity manipulation, was on the side facing me. The main engine was high up on the other side. Both would be in reach when I jumped. The back up engine is on the bottom of the ship, practically inaccessible. Not dropping the ship then, but it won't be able to dive into any holes in the shield.

'That'll work;" I thought to myself. Everybody important would be saved. I just hope Blue likes who he ends up with. I crouch lightly, and spring onto the Galra craft; drawing a small knife hidden in my belt. After Keith started carting his around wherever he went, I figured it was a useful tool to keep on hand. Bracing myself on my left arm, I reached around the tapered top of the ship. I gripped the knife tightly, and stabbed it in to the side of the ship. I heard a sputter, and for a heart stopping moment, the ship stopped in the sky. Soon the backup engine came on, and the ship continued to tail Blue. We were reaching the end of the castle's energy shield, and the other ships were quickly approaching. I hurriedly switched the knife into my left hand, and stabbed the other side of the ship. It didn't stop this time, but seemed to lose its fluidity. Blue made a sharp turn, and dove for the shield. When the Galra ship tried to follow, it swung lazily through the air, and only dipped slightly when the pilot attempted to dive. The ship seemed only to hover as Blue sailed through a small hole. Safe in the castle with the others. I smiled. That's all that matters; and as I clung to the edge of the Galra ship, I rejoiced in the fact that even without me, my friends would excel.

The Galra attacker went back to the mothership. Damn it! Why couldn't the Galra just give up for once? As soon as the attacker landed, there were at least seven guns on me. I clung carefully to the ship, and waited for my demise. I hope my death will be quick. As I hear the charging of Galra guns, a bang thunders through the terminal.

"Put down your weapons!" The harsh command echos in the wide room, and deafening silence follows the clicking of multiple guns unloading.

"He doesn't seem to be putting up a fight boys; why don't we hear what he has to say."

Blood pulses through my ears. I know that voice; would recognize the cold tone anywhere. Lotor. I schooled my features, and slid down the ship.

"As you know, I am the blue paladin of Voltron. But I have grown tired of my so-called friends, and tired of their lying and deceiving ways. I have come to sympathize with your beliefs, and want to join your cause."

I stood, straight-backed, and stared into Lotor's eyes. My face was washed of all emotions but hate and disdain. He stared right back, and seemed to contemplate my words. His eyes flashed, and the ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

"Very well then. For that lovely speech; I'll hold judgment on your death."

He glanced lazily towards his men

"Lock him up in one of the... private cells. We wouldn't want any prisoners to disagree with his new beliefs. They may act violently."

Lotor looked back towards me, a sense of supremacy in every line of his stance.

"We'll speak later."

The cell was small, but well away from the others. There was a bed, a toilet area, and a small hole in the wall that looked like it deposited food. There was a dim glow emanating from lights built into the ceiling. Overall, it looked miserable; but it was probably better than whatever the others were provided with. I sat down on the bed, and prepared for any sort of contact with the Galra Prince.

.............................

I gazed up at the horrific spectacle above me with uncensored despair. I knew I should have been the one to take the last ship. Instead, Lance is out there – stuck battling the Galra alone. Blue was flying wildly, and it seemed like only one Galra craft was able to keep up with the maneuvers. But that one ship was right on Blue's side. If Allura dropped the shield, both ships would get in. Suddenly, a small figure appears on the top of Blue's head. It crouches down, and then jumps on to the Galra ship. Lance. He must be going for the engines. But how was he planning on getting back to Blue? Realization dawned on me. He wasn't. I looked around the landing dock and saw similar dawning expressions on the others' faces. A squealing can be heard from the sky, and when I glance up again, Blue is diving straight for the shield while the Galra ship seemed to sputter in the air and go in tired circles. Blue was able to make it through a small opening in the shield, and landed on the dock. As the last of the planet's occupants filed off the lion, my eyes were only on the small Galra craft heading straight towards an ominous main ship with a paladin on it's back. Shiro herded the civilians towards the castle, quietly talking to them. He treaded back to me, a grim look on his face. 

"He left his bayard with Blue," Shiro said softly. "He doesn't plan on coming back."


	2. Prison Interactions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo Lovelies. I hope you enjoy the new chapter, and don't mind the note with a bit of logistics. First of all, I, am utterly terrified of posting on this website. AO3 seems almost to be an unreachable level of quality - at least in my eyes. After posting the first chapter, I had an unfortunately long period of extreme self-doubt that kept me from even entering my profile. So, I have done what I usually do when I get nervous: guilt-tripped myself into being productive. I am currently dealing with getting through school (American Public Schools. Yay.) and even with my already pre-written chapters, I am offically warning that infrequent uploads are a possiblility. I am trying for 1 chapter per month, 2 if they're of the short variety, and I give you my full permission to bully and belittle me if I miss an upload - I will consider it encouragement. Now, thank you for slogging through my beginning-of-story notes, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Six. Six weeks; 1008 hours stuck inside this tiny cell. By now, Lance had adjusted to the schedule, eating his fill and sleeping for a little longer than the time the darkness provided. Whenever he wasn't eating or sleeping, he was training. Mentally, and physically; as well as he could in his cell. He had enough space to do push-ups on the cell floor, and Lance made sure he stayed as fit as possible while locked away. It was during one of his regular exercise routines that the 'great Galra Prince' finally deigned to meet with him – on day 42 of his captivity.

"Your dedication to fitness is.. admirable Paladin; but what exactly do you intend on doing with your muscle mass?"

Lance stood up, his answer automatic;

"Serve you, and your cause – if you will accept me." His voice sounded both robotic and eager, and long thought-out response. Lotor raised his brow, a condescending look upon his face.

"You would serve me either way, weak or strong. When your helping by simply sitting in a cell, muscles don't truly matter."

Lance stiffly sat down on his cot, his shoulders slumping in disappointment, his voice thin and melancholy;

"So you don't wish for me to help you in any other way?"

Lotor gazed down at the saddened paladin, and replied in a hard voice.

"Any position in a Galra is earned. If you want to help, work your way out of this cell. Menial labor first, then we might be able to see what else your good for. I heard you are a decent sharpshooter; maybe, in time, we can build on the ability and allow you to join the guard. But not before helping our cause from the bottom."

Lance looked up, his eyes glistening with hope, a tentative and eager smile on his face.

"I will do anything I can to aid you."

Lotor nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. He turned away from the ex-paladin on the cot and walked towards the door of the cell.

"I will have a jailer escort you to a workplace;" The prince declared, not bothering to turn in Lance's direction.

"I will return when it is decided you have earned your place, and you will be aloud to preform tests for an occupancy for the guard. Until then."

 

Lotor raised a lazy hand to Lance, his fingers waving languidly. With his other, he knocked a complected pattern on the door, and left as soon as it opened. After waiting a moment, Lance resumed his exercises, but did not continue for long; he went to sleep early so he would be prepared for whatever was thrown at him in the morning.

Lance awoke with a jolt, forced out of a vivid dream. He had seen his friends and family's dead bodies littered around him. The worst part was, he remembered wandering the masses, enjoying the pain and betrayal etched on their dying faces. Lance leaned over on his cot, breathing deeply, forcing the nightmare from his mind. A knock sounded on the door, and Lance could hear the jangling of a key ring.

"What are we supposed to do if he's not awake yet?"

"We wake him up, what else? He's supposed to be held in the same regard as the bottomers."

"Yeah but we're not supposed to enter the cells-"

"Hello?" Lance said, "I-I'm awake."

The door rattled and clanked, then swung open on nearly-silent hinges. It revealed a pair of Galra, the first Lance had seen out of battle uniform. Each held a small hand gun, though, and looked like they would easily match Lance in a fight. One of the Galra had a small smile on his face, while the other stared straight faced. Lance held up his hands, and looked at the serious one.

"I come in peace," Lance said sarcastically. Then he lowered his hands until the palms were displayed up, wrists together. "Will I be cuffed?" he asked seriously.

The serious Galra raised an eyebrow; "Not at the moment, but we have been given permission to deal with you as needed."

"Our names being Efariax," The smiling Galra said, gesturing at himself, "And Aboithe;" He gestured towards the serious Galra.

"We're here to get you some clothes and assign you some tasks – what you'll be doing until we decide you've earned a step up."

Lance relaxed his hands, "Well met. I'm Lance, if you weren't told. Thank you for helping me with the opportunity to join the cause."

The serious Galra – Aboithe – grunted "Your kind are liars and betrayers. I will believe your loyalty to the cause when you have truly sacrificed something for it." Aboithe glared at Lance.

"Well then I can't wait prove myself worthy to both of you;" Lance said amicably.

"Well then," Efariax said, "Let's get you some new clothes. Those must be getting terribly uncomfortable."

They head down a long hallway, Lance sandwiched between the two Galra. After navigating a labyrinth of passageways, including some backtracks and turnarounds, they entered a small room filled with uniforms.

"Wait in there," Efariax said, gesturing towards a curtained off area, "And disrobe. We will bring you clothes shortly."

Lance nodded and entered the changing room. There was an unconcealed camera in the corner of the space, and a hook to place your clothes on. Lance peeled off his old uniform, a spare version of the blue paladin suit, and put it on the hook. After he disrobed, he stood shivering in the small space. Soon, Efariax returned with a bundled up uniform.

"Here's your clothes. This is the only set you'll get, so take care of them."

Lance smiled weakly;

"Understood"

The uniform was... interesting, to say the least. The entire getup was purple, and the clothes had a very odd design. The shirt seemed to have two sections, connected by an obvious seam near the top of the rib cage. The outer layer of the shirt was baggy, and made of a rough material. There were no sleeves on the shirt, and the bands that went over the shoulders looked raggedy, as if the sleeves had been torn off. The inner layer was like a corset, and it ended at the seam. When Lance put it on, he could feel merciless cords in the lining of the shirt, compressing his chest; and making it hard to breathe. The pants were just as unusual. The area near his waist and hips was tight, and from the top of the thighs, the material ballooned out, and then compressed to tight, elastic-like bands around the ankles. Lance slipped them on, feeling the combined pain of the chest-crushing shirt and the rough material of the entire uniform. As Lance put on the clothing, a small pair of shoes fell out of the bundle. They looked like cheap slippers, with a flimsy sole, and practically see-through sides. The shoes were purple, of course, and when Lance slid them on, he noticed a small thread-clump on the top of the shoe, which constantly rubbed against his foot.

After attempting to adjust to the new conditions imposed by his uniform, Lance exited the small excuse for a room and saw Efariax and Aboithe waiting for him. He stood there gasping as he listened to the Galras' instructions.

"You will be working as a house servant in the personal quarters of the main Galra ship. There are others with your job, and you are expected to interact cordially with them whenever nessicary. You are the lowest of stations, so treat everyone with respect."

"Oh no – please. Act however you want, it will reveal your true nature all the faster."

"Aboithe!"

"It's fine." Lance smiled weakly, and bowed to the pair. "Thanks for the advice. When do I get started?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review for me, they brighten my day. : )


	3. New Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas/Happy Hanuka/Happy Winter Solstice!! I hope you enjoy my present - it's a little bit late, please forgive me : ). I hope you enjoy the minny-chapter! (sorry it's not a 'holiday' chapter - this story is to depressing for that)

Lance walked down the wide hallway, squirming uncomfortably in his uniform, and took in the sight of the Galra's main ship. He had seen many similar vessels during missions, but he had never been given the opportunity to examine the structure and details of the spaceships. While most of the ships Lance had been on had well lit, utilitarian hallways; this section of the main ship had decorations lining the walls, in the form of carvings. Lance wanted to stop and stare at the artwork, the seven soldiers surrounding him would disapprove. They were escorting him to his new place of work, and apparently would be taking him back to his cell afterwards. The 'posse' looked restless though, shifting in their armor and grunting disapprovingly whenever he stumbled or slowed down.

'I suppose they were expecting more than an escorting job when they went on duty' Lance thought to himself.

The leader of the guards, Lance had taken to calling him 'Joe' in his head, stopped in front of a doorway and turned woodenly to face him.

"We leave you here, and will be back in eight Vargas. If you are not here, and we have to search for you, you will not... enjoy the results" 'Joe' leered down at Lance, and the former paladin set his jaw.

"Understood."

Lance turned to the doorway, and determinedly walked into the room.

He walked into a cleaning war zone. Servants of every species were rushing around; doing laundry, swapping supplies, and rushing in and out with carts of towels and other cleaning necessities. It reminded Lance of the hotel where his mom once worked, the hectic main area where the maids would gather to get supplies and do the laundry for all the rooms. Almost as soon as he stepped inside the crazed area, he was approached by a tall, Galra woman.

"So your the new cleaning boy eh? You don't look like you could lift a feather in zero gravity, let alone work a room."

Lance inclined his head, the words of Efariax echoing through his conscious; "I'm stronger than I look Ma'am, and I will do anything that is assigned to me. I'll do anything I can to prove my worth."

Ucri looked the small human over. What she had said was true, he looked as scrawny has a newborn kitten, but there was a gleam in his eyes, a hardened shard of anger and tenacity. He would do.

"You'll start out in laundry. Take all the clothes given to you, separate them into piles by material, and run regular loads. If you ever find yourself with some free time, help the others in your area, but don't expect the same."

Ucri pointed Lance over to a station, and he immediately accepted two bundles from harried employees, and got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, we reach the end of my edited chapters. As my editor is currently (and will continue to be) about 5,000 miles away, we don't have time to switch works anymore. So, please do comment if you see any mistakes - and know that I am currently working on finding (read: kidnapping) another editor, and I'll try to go back over my unedited chapters as well. Merry Christmas!


	4. Royal Sector

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo! I hope you enjoy the new chapter, and I would like to shout out to the amazing editor who has agreed to help with this series. @AnAwkwardAvocado - thank you so much for your help and input.   
> On with the story!

After several hours of repeated laundry duty, Lance is released from the cleaning room exhausted, aching, and covered in dried soapsuds. He met Joe and his crew on time as promised, and was quietly escorted back to his cell. Once there, a small tray of food was deposited in the food slot, but Lance could only stare at it disgustedly. He trudged towards his bed, throwing the torturous slippers and top half of his uniform onto the floor. Finally able to breathe, Lance collapsed onto his cot and promptly passed out.  
When Lance awoke, it was to the banging of guards on his cell door. Scrambling, he forced himself back into his 'uniform' and stood, practically at attention, near the door to his cell. When the aperture opened, he was already prepared for the rough handling of his posse, as they quickly escorted him down the halls with the same warnings as before. This time, when Lance entered the cleaning room, he went straight to work and immediately started on the pile of laundry that had been deposited at his station. He worked constantly, but as soon as it looked like he might finish his pile, more was added on, almost double that of the others surrounding him. He stopped his feverish routine only when Ucri commanded that he leave with his escort and by the time he returned to his cell, Lance was so exhausted he could barely stomach a couple of bites of food before passing out on his cot. Thus became the hellish cycle of his life in the Galra Empire.

˜˚˜  
It had been three months since Lance had started his job, and the effects showed clearly on his body and psyche. Although he still stood tall, Lance had stopped looking people in the eyes after a show of displeasure from the guards left his ribs cracked and his left eye swollen shut for several weeks. Lance's exercise routines had stopped, he simply didn't have enough time to do anything besides choke down food and sleep.He had stopped talking; he even missed the company of his two grumpy jailers, who he had not seen since the day he was given his uniform. Lance had all but given up on rising through the Galra ranks, in fact, all hopes and ambitions seemed gone from his mind as he went through his mind-numbing tasks each day.   
Lance had never considered how detrimental laundry was to someone's health until he started doing it everyday. His cracked and blistered hands reached for another pile of uniforms, painstakingly placing them in the machine. Lance could feel his fingers protesting, the dry, tight skin cramping in response to more of the soapy water. He remembered a similar feeling from back home, when he would help his mom wash the dishes. But back home it didn't usually take eight hours to wash up after dinner. Robotically, Lance continued through his tasks, his mind phasing out to a pleasant numbness.  
A hush fell over the other workers. Noticing the change in volume, Lance glanced up from his job, and stared curiously at the group of Galra soldiers standing next to Ucri, seeming to be arguing about something. Ucri glanced his way, and Lance felt a chill go down his back. The Galra soldiers approached him, and he straightened, standing almost at attention with a respectful look on his face. He kept his face down, not daring to look anyone in the eye.   
The apparent leader of the solder group cleared his throat and spoke; “You are the Blue Paladin?”  
Lance tensed, but kept his eyes downcast.  
“Was.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Was. I was the Blue Paladin. I obviously no longer hold the title.”  
The Galra snarled, “Don't get smart with me, boy. One wrong word out of you and I have permission to start shooting.” He glared down at Lance. “Understood?”  
“Understood.”  
The Galra soldiers escorted him through a maze of passageways, doubling-back and abruptly changing direction regularly. Lance walked the route quietly, making sure to walk a respectful distance from the guards and avoid eye contact.   
They were in a wing of the ship that Lance had never seen before. Everything was plush and decorative. Gone was the utilitarian, stark nature of the servants area - here, the very walls seemed to emanate riches, with lightly painted accents and tasteful windows. Lance felt like a dirty spot on an otherwise pristine mirror - with his dirty, unkempt uniform, and mangled appearance. He wanted to stop and savour the common pleasures the hallways promised - warm air, peace, comfort - but the guards continued to strong arm him through the ship. After winding through several more hallways, the guards deposited him in front of a very large, very intimidating door.  
“Well,” One of the guards growled, “Open the door! We can’t leave until you’re inside”   
Lance bowed his head, and shakily reached for the door handle, swinging open the door. The threshold gaped in front of him, a pure black hole that seemed to scream ‘Go away!’   
Lance hesitated; if there was one thing he had retained through the past mind-numbing months, it was to never trust the unknown. Slowly, he shook his head and started backing away from the door. The guards behind him let out an impatient grumble, and one brave soul stepped behind Lance, angirly shoving him through the doorway and pushed the doors behind him.  
“Good riddance,” one of the guards grumbled before starting to head back to their duties. The door slammed ominously behind them - and the crash reminded them to hurry out of the royal sector of the galra ship.

-*- Pidge’s POV -*-

I sat, unmoving, in the lounge of the palace. The rest of the team surrounded me, and their gaunt faces was a testament to the similar emotions running through all of us. Replacement. I suppose it was necessary, at this point. After all, you couldn’t form Voltron with only four paladins. But…there had been no word of his death. No word of anything, really. The galra empire seemed predatory in its silence. They had closed their borders, cut their losses and retreated to form an impenetrable territory. Not even the blades could get in - if not for lack of trying.   
Keith had left to train with them as soon as Lance was taken - he had only returned a month ago at Shiro’s pleading. Voltron could barely survive with four paladins; we could only fail with three. So Keith had returned to the red lion, but blue had sat unmoving in her hanger since Lance’s disappearance. What Allura was proposing was necessary for the team’s survival, even if it killed us inside, even if it would hurt to hear any voice but Lance’s coming from Blue.   
There would be auditions. Anybody from the universe could compete to become the next paladin. They would be held as soon as possible, and until then - we just had to keep surviving. Everything was put on hold. Our only job was policing the sectors we could keep safe; until we had a team again. Until we were whole again. The meeting was adjourned, and we all slinked back to our quarters, seeming to be in impossibly lower spirits than when we had entered the room.


	5. Sweet Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo,  
> Happy Valentine's Day! I would like to thank my amazing beta, AnAwkwardAvacado, for going through this chapter and making sure my sleep deprived brain doesn't screw up the story. : ).

Maybe going several days without food while doing hard labor wasn’t the smartest idea Lance had ever had. As he stumbled into the dark room, Lance collapsed onto the floor. The murkiness around him seemed to spin, getting faster and faster until he passed out. Suddenly, lights flickered to life around the room. A pair of strong arms lifted Lance up, pausing in front of the door. Slowly, deliberately, the form turned and prowled across a large set of rooms. Lance was laid gently on a warm bed, and a cool hand brushed the former paladin's bangs off his forehead. He murmured in his sleep, rolling towards the hand. The owner of the appendage stared impassively, looking down at the vulnerable boy with a satisfied grin on his face.

“Oh, This has been almost too easy.” Lotor gloated quietly. 

“Sweet dreams my darling Lance. When you awake, your true ordeal will begin.”

Chuckling under his breath, the Galra Prince stalked away, preparing for his new houseguest. Unaware, Lance continued blissfully sleeping, having his first - and perhaps last - pleasant dream while in Galran control.

\------------------------------------------

The first time Lance saw snow, he was in the middle of a flight examination. They were being taught the proper maneuvers in the case of a dangerous storm, and while performing an ascent into the clouds to avoid the most threatening areas, his plane had been surrounded by a white storm of nothing. His instructor had cursed, commanded him to land his plane, and announced to the rest of the beginning cadets that their examinations would be postponed until the snow aspect of the storm had passed. It had been one of the best weeks of his life. As most of the cadet’s schedule was made up of exams this time of year, the whole class had time to go outside and appreciate the snow. Lance was outside in the cold from dawn to dusk, appreciating a natural phenomenon he had never seen back home. He was even more excited when his family had visited him the next winter season.

“Come on Lucy! It’s just frozen water, it’s not going to bite you!” 

Lance laughed and gestured for his younger sister to come out on the ice with him. The small public rink was practically empty, and the few other patrons to no interest in the small girl shivering fearfully on the edge of the ice. Lance frowned, and moved closer.

“Com’ere Luce. I’ll help you the first few times around. I know it’s scary at first - but it’s really fun once you get the hang of it!”

Lucy looked her brother in the eye, and he smiled reassuringly. Smiling shakily, she grabbed Lance’s hand, and was launched into the rink. She shrieked, and felt her brother’s hand on her back; he balanced her, and gently pushed her forwards. She stumbled her way around the rink; once, twice, again. Lucy giggled, and pushed Lance away. She placed her hands on her hips, and leaned towards Lance.

“Can you do anything besides shuffle around the rink like me? I want to see something cool!”

The girl crossed her arms imperiously, and tried to keep a glare aimed at her brother. Lance laughed and ruffled her hair.

“Okay Luce - but only for you! And you need to promise that you won’t tell Mom that I showed you this. I’m not supposed to be ‘encouraging irresponsible behavior in such impressionable children.’”

Lance raised his eyebrows jokingly; and after a very solemn pinky swear from his sister-in-skates, he ferried the girl off to the side and shot out across the ice. Lance’s face changed, becoming a mask of focus and quiet joy, and expression Lucy had only seen on her brother while he was swimming. He seemed to run across the ice, and after a quick lap, Lance whirled quickly, laughing at his sister’s astounded face as he continued to fly across the ice backwards. Turning back around, he glided towards his sister with one leg in the air, and spinned to a stop next to his sister. Lucy grabbed at his collar, slipping slightly with the fast movement. 

“Teach me!” She demanded. Lance laughed and helped steady her. He poked the girl in the stomach, and smiled.

“Well, you can’t very well skate backwards if you can’t even skate forwards! Come on, we’ll take it in steps.”

He pulled Lucy off the wall, and slowly started helping her improve her balance. The last thing he heard was her proud giggle at successfully skating on her own, before the world around him faded to black.

\-----------------------------

The beaches in California were some of the best Lance had ever seen. And in the two weeks he had on vacation with his family, he planned on taking full advantage of them. He walked out of the small resort onto a large expanse of soft sand and vivid surf. Quickly, he set up a beach chair and a towel, leaving behind his belongings as he ran towards the ocean, diving into the sea. The water was cool, refreshing - and the current! It pulled him deliciously, the force felt like a guiding hand, beckoning him farther out into the depths of the sea. Grinning, Lance answered the siren’s call. He swam through waves, up and down the shore. He ducked and dodged through a small, underwater forest of greenery, testing his breath capacity, and laughing in joy every time he stuck his head out of the water. Lance had walked onto the sand at mid morning; and he didn’t head inside until dusk. It was very rare for Lance to get a day all to himself like this, but he was looking forwards to taking his siblings out into the water tomorrow. Now that he had swimmed the shoreline, he knew the best places to take everyone. Lance smiled excitedly, already anticipating tomorrow, as he cleaned up and collapsed in bed. The world once again faded to black around him.

\--------------------------------------

Prince Lotor returned to his rooms to find the former blue paladin smiling faintly in his sleep, the first time he had seen the boy with such an unguarded expression on his face. Lotor caressed Lance’s cheek, and pinched it slightly. When Lance didn’t react, Lotor smirked, and starting clasping Lance’s wrists in iron chains. 

“I think it’s long past time we have another talk, hmm?”


	6. Picky Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo!  
> I would like to apologise for the lateness of the chapter, and I issue a warning that this chapter is not betaed, only because I do not want to bother my lovely, amazing beta, AnAwkwardAvocado, with my procrastinating ass. (I'm not worthy) So it is a self edited chapter. Apologies to those of you who twitch when you see a grammar mistake. Also, I believe this is necessary now; 
> 
> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER AND THE STORY AFTER IS QUITE A BIT MORE MATURE AND DARK. THIS WILL INVOLVE ABUSE, BLATANT TORTURE, VIOLENCE, AND POSSIBLE SEXUAL ASSAULT AND/OR RAPE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
> 
> So, for all of you who can handle reading the graphic content (don't worry darlings - it's not that horrible this chapter; I'm just warming up.) please enjoy, and tell me what you think in the comments!

“Wakey, wakey Darling.”

Lance squirmed blearily, jolting awake once he felt the cold manacles around his wrists. He looked around, and spotted Lotor lounging across the room. The galra had a satisfied smirk on his face, and his gaze was hungerly taking in the paladin sprawled across his bed. Lance curled up wearily, eyeing Lotor nervously. The manacles stopped his retreat, and Lance froze, staring down at the bedspread. Lotor scoffed in the corner.

“Oh don’t worry Paladin. I have no interest in forcing myself on you.” Lotor paused, and skimmed his gaze across Lance’s figure. 

“Well… not today, at least.”

Lance gulped, but forced himself to look Lotor in the eye. “What do you wish of me Lo-”

“My Lord would do.”

“W-what?”

Lotor raised a superior brow, and prowled towards the manacled prisoner. He climbed up on the bed, and leaned down, gripping Lance’s chin warningly. 

“You may call me ‘My Lord’” He breathed. “Although ‘Your highness,’ ‘My liege,’ and…. ‘Master’ are also acceptable.”

The prince caressed Lance’s cheek, and leaned back slightly. Once again arching his brow, Lotor moved his grasp to the paladin’s throat.

“Do please continue.” Lotor drawled.

Lance cleared his throat awkwardly. “What do you wish of me… my Lord?.

“Ah.. very good. So you humans can learn. Now, what do I wish of you? Nothing, really. This meeting is more to your benefit, darling. In fact, you should probably thank me…”

Lotor loomed over Lance’s incapacitated form, petting absently at the boy’s throat. He pressed closer to Lance, until his weight was on the verge of smothering the prisoner. Lance whimpered quietly under the pressure, and the prince hummed in reply. Leaning even closer to the paladin, Lotor whispered into Lance’s ear.  
“There is a new opening in the fighting rinks, and successfully winning ten matches immediately allows willing contenders to apply into our guard. Win all ten, and a match against a soldier of my choice… I may allow you to join my personal battalion.” Lotor retreated to sitting contentedly on Lance’s legs, smirking down at him. 

“You’re welcome.” He announced, and then looked at Lance expectantly. The paladin blushed, and stared pointedly at Lotor’s chest. 

“Thank you, my Lord…” 

Lotor continued to stare down at Lance expectantly, and raised his eyebrows. Lance mumbled nervously.

“Speak up, love.”

“Th-thank you my Lord; I am… I am indebted to your service.”

“Hmm, much better. You clearly have potential. It will be so enjoyable to train you properly. Am I to assume that you accept my offer?”

“Yes; my Lord.”

“Mmm.. very good. Good pet.” Lotor leaned in at kissed Lance’s cheek. He squeezed carefully at the paladin’s throat, and then climbed off the bed. He stalked through the royal suite, and grabbed the attention of one of his guards. 

“You will find our blue paladin chained quite securely to the master suite’s bed. He has agreed to become the new fighter in our pits. Why don’t you and your men give him the proper greeting our fighters receive. Oh, and make sure to do it off the carpets. Do transfer him into the correct cell once you’re done.”

The guard grinned, and radioed his cronies. They marched into the bedroom, while Lotor headed towards his office, turning on a myriad of security cameras and settling in for an enjoyable show.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Billions of planets, Millions of Galaxies, and Infinite number of universes - and nobody can get the blue lion to respond to them. Not only that, she’s violently tossed out quite a few of the contenders simply for entering. It’s no use, no one will try anymore. I stared dejectedly at the Paladins in front of me. Coran had left with the excuse of grabbing food, leaving me to brief the four soldiers in front of me. They looked so much different then they did before ‘the incident.’ Hunk was slouched in corner, staring at his knees. Shiro stood, as straight as a board, behind pidge, who sat unmoving. And Keith… Keith was curled up on the floor. He had entered the room after all the hopeful paladins left - and hadn’t moved from his spot since. It was horrible, to see this amazing team fractured and dejected. I cleared my throat awkwardly, and tried to add a note of cheer to my voice. 

“Okay guys, so it looks like none of the contenders quite fit the blue lion. We don’t have many options left, but we’ll figure it out, I’m sure. I propose that we reconvene tomorrow and brainstorm together.” 

I did my best fake smile, and waved everyone towards the doors. They passed me morosely, trodding past like they were leaving for their funerals - not for their bedrooms. I kept the smile frozen on my face until I could no longer hear their footsteps. Once all signs of human life were gone, I deflated. I slumped into a chair, and desperately searched for any possible solution. Without Voltron, we were losing this war - the Galra had been able to hold their bases, and even retake some of the planets that we had previously freed. And we were stuck here, doing nothing. But you can’t form Voltron without the Blue Lion, and every available being had tried bonding with Blue - everyone. Well… everyone except me and Coran of course. It was more out of respect for Lance than anything else - the competition was our last resort, and with the whirlwind of planning that came with it there simply hadn’t been time.  
‘But that means…’ I leapt to my feet.

“Coran! Coran, where are you! You must come here at once!”

I dashed to the kitchen, and found the Altaen in question half asleep at the kitchen table, a bowl of food goo in front of him. At the sound of my shrieking, he jerked awake, and leapt to his feet. 

“What, who - Princess! What’s wrong?”

“Coran, come with me, I think I have an idea!”

I grabbed his hand, and dragged him to the hanger. Once we stood in front of Blue, Coran gently disentangled himself.

“Allura, what is this about? Why are we here?”

“Coran - don’t you see? We never tried Blue ourselves! Maybe we could get her to cooperate, because we are more familiar to her? Maybe-”

“Allura.” Coran sighed. “I-I can’t be the blue paladin.”

“Why? Do you think you’re not good enough? You’re amazing Coran! You could definitely be the paladin.”

“No Allura,” He said gently; “I can’t be the blue paladin, because I’ve already tried. I tried before the first contestants got here.”

“But..”

“I’m sorry Allura.”

He hugged me, and left quietly, abandoning me to the silent, empty hanger. I turned towards blue, and walked up to her. I felt like I was in a daze. I wearily entered the lion, and walked into the control pod. The room was dark, and when I sat down in the pilot’s chair, there was no reaction. I looked around; the shadowy control panels, the darkened screens, and my own depressing mood lead to a heavy atmosphere. It felt like a blasphemy to Blue, because her paladins were always the brightest and happiest of the groups. But I couldn’t help it. I curled up in the chair; I could feel tears trailing down my cheeks, but I was numb. Cold. The room was shaking around me - or was that my own tremors?

“Why..” I mumbled under my breath. I looked up, staring all around me. “Why Blue? I know you miss Lance; but we can’t go on without you. We need you…” I glanced at the controls one more time, hoping to see one spark, one hint of life in the lion. There was nothing. 

I left the lion. 

There was nothing else. No one else. What are we going to do? I stopped to stare back at Blue, she hadn’t moved an inch from where she landed after attacking one of the potentials. Her gaze seemed mocking, like she was daring me to find someone that could possibly be as worthy of her as Lance was. I slouched, and muttered one last thing to the lion. 

“ I know that we are not equal to him. But this is our last chance. Our last hope. We have no one else for you to accept. I am sorry we failed you.”

With that, I bowed and turned away. I took the last few steps out of her shield, and-

I heard a sound from behind me. 

I looked back, and there was Blue. She stood taller than before, and her lights were on. In one great motion, she leaped forwards - and knelt in front of me. Her mouth opened wide; the main entrance to the ship that had closed all the months ago and refused to open since. Her eyes flashed, and the doorway lit up. It was a clear invitation to go inside.

My hand seemed to be touching her before I could comprehend what was happening. Light flashed behind my eyes, and I heard the resounding snap! of a connection falling into place. The Blue Lion had spoken.

Voltron would form again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, apologies for the unbetaed chapter, and please go support the amazing beta that I didn't want to pester tonight, AnAwkwardAvocado . They writes voltron fics too, and the stories are awesome. I hope you liked the chapter, and whether you liked it or disliked it, please leave a chapter! I read them all, and try to reply to as many as I can without feeling awkward. Remember, us writers are more afraid of you than you are of us : ) Thanks for reading!


	7. The Fighting Rinks

There were fists everywhere, raining down upon him from all angles. Bruising, breaking - he felt his collarbone crack under the beating, felt his arm snap from being held at such an angle. He could feel his legs giving out, sense the eagerness of the galra surrounding him for a defensless target. He struggled to stay awake, but darkness beckoned, and soon he fell into a pit of unconsciousness.

\---

Lance bolted awake, wincing at the sudden movements. He found out the hard way that Galras don’t bother using their technology when it comes to healing fighters’ wounds. When he was first deposited in this hell-hole of a cell, he could no longer feel his legs. The soldiers had broken his spine, three of his ribs, and a myriad of several other bones. After four agonizing days, Lance had been stuck in the Galra equivalent of a healing pod, and left there for enough time that he would at least be able to move - barely. He had never been so grateful of his training. The guards armed him with a blaster for his first fight; and it had a good enough scope that he had taken the droid down quickly.

Lance had stumbled into the arena only a week after his first battle. He had no idea how he was still alive - his exhaustion lay heavily upon him, and he couldn’t recall eating anything since the day he was summoned to Lotor’s chambers. The audience surrounding the fighting pit was jeering, louder than ever before. Lance had the distinct feeling that he was a lamb being lead to the slaughter. The feeling grew stronger when he was presented with his weapon: throwing daggers. He’s god-awful with daggers. Shakily, Lance accepted the knives. The blades were better than nothing. Then, his opponent was revealed to him. It was… a Balmeran. 

The Balmeran looked feral; he was covered head to toe in chains, and it appeared that even the five Galra surrounding him were struggling to keep control. Before Lance could fully process the terrible sight, he was dragged into the arena, and the Balmaran was released - except he was holding a mace. Lance glanced around, panicked. The large fighting rink had been cleared of all cover, and the floor was covered in sand. There was nothing to hide behind, nowhere to run. He fumbled for his knives, and grasped one in each hand, leaving one more to slip in his shirt. Suddenly, he longed for Keith. If Keith was here, he would know what to do. He would know how to survive this. 

Lance blinked away his sentimentality and tightened his grip on the knives. He was going to fight, no matter the odds. The Balmaran and Lance started circling each other as the former paladin eyed his opponent, eyes probing for any weaknesses. He wasn’t confident in his skills when it came to using the weapons in his hands, so he would have to get close to the enemy if he wanted any shot at winning. Carefully, he started tightening the circle. He would have to approach quickly once he was in range of the mace; aiming for the eyes was probably the best option. Now decided, Lance kept circling until the mace was a hairsbreadth from his face and he went in for the kill. He leapt, slashing with his knife, aiming for the vulnerable eyes, and -

He was flung away. The Balmaran had anticipated his attack. Lance tumbled to the edge of the arena, and he spun to face the fighter. The creature was charging towards him, mace held to kill. Lance dashed to the side, running along the perimeter of the rink. He had lost his two knives in the fall, not daring to hold on to them while he was spinning so recklessly. 

The Balmaran shouted angrily behind Lance and the former paladin broke into a sprint. He glanced behind him, and saw his opponent angrily brandishing the mace and gaining ground quickly. Lance gritted his teeth, and pushed himself faster. His legs protested under the stress, but he continued on, desperately trying to come up with another plan. He could try to loop around and grab the other daggers, it would be better to have three knives instead of one.

All of a sudden, there was a tumultuous roar from behind Lance; and a deep thud. The Balmaran had fallen, the impact created a shockwave through the stand, affecting Lance’s already unsteady feet. He wobbled,crashing to the ground. Groaning, Lance tried to pull himself to his feet, but his legs weren’t moving. They shook, weakly, and gave out; falling limp. He scrambled in the sand, and tried to drag himself out of the Balmeran’s path, but it was no use. Lance’s opponent clambered to his feet, and resumed his death charge. Prisoner faced prisoner and Lance palmed his last knife. If he was going to die anyway…

Lance propped himself up on one elbow, and drew his other arm back. He had one chance and he had to make it count. He took aim, and launched his weapon with as much strength as he could manage. It buried itself solidly in the Balmaran’s chest. The creature stumbled, and fell only a meter away from the crippled Paladin. The Balmaran didn’t speak, but Lance could have sworn that he saw a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes before they closed forever. 

The taunting crowds fell silent, and Lance couldn’t stop staring at the fallen form in front of him. He had … he had just killed an innocent. A prisoner, just like himself. They might not have the same goals, but Lance had fought with the Balmarans. He had risked his life for them, and they for him. As he stared at the body, a single tear dropped down his cheek, but no more than that. He was a warrior, mourning a fallen brother, but Lance was fighting for something else now. He glanced up at the masses, at the royal booth, and gulped at the glittering look he saw in Lotor’s eyes. He was fighting for someone else now. So, when guards escorted Lance out of the arena, he didn’t look back at the figure behind him. 

He was a soldier. 

And soldiers can’t afford to mourn for their enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo, I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! It's been a hectic few weeks for me, and the craziness is going to continue for the next few months, so I'm modifying my 'optimal update' time to the middle week of each month. That means some chapters might be a few days earlier, and some a few days later... it's for the sake of this author's sanity. Once again, I'd like to thank my amazing editor and beta, AnAwkwardAvacado, for dealing with me and looking of the chapter. I hope you liked it, and thanks for reading!


	8. The End Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is un-edited, because I finished this about 2 minutes ago and I wanted to get it on here asap! More about my unscheduled hiatus in the end, and please take a peek over at AnAwkwardAvacado's profile if you're looking for more Voltron fics, they are usually the one who betas/edits/saves this story from being crap. On with the story!

Lotor wasn’t lounging on his throne today. That was new, he had been at every challenge beforehand. Lance glanced around warily; changes to his routine were never good. At least the set up to the fight was relatively uniform. This time, he had been shoved into the rink without any weapons, but that had happened before. It usually just meant that the Prince wanted a longer show today. No matter, Lance would win, just as he had won every match so far.

Lance walked towards the middle of the rink, glancing around for anything he could use as a weapon. The crowd was oddly silent around him, and exited hush that kept the audience murmuring quietly. It made Lance tense as he waited for his opponent to enter the pit.

His enemy’s gate rose slowly, but Lance could see nothing but shadow. Slowly, a figure emerged. The man was bedecked in galran armor and carried a double-edged blade at his waist. Small curls escaped from his helmet, framing an aristocratic face. Cruel eyes stared down the audience, mouth curled down in a displeased grimace. The Altean markings, so reminiscent of Allura’s, stood out starkly against violet skin. Lance could only watch in horror as Prince Lotor stepped onto the sand.

“Hello Darling” Lotor called from across the rink. “Are you prepared to lose?”

Lance hastily backed away from the smirking Prince, as Lotor prowled closer to his prey.

“Now, now Love;” Lotor chided; “I always expect a verbal answer. Afterall, you should respect your betters.”

Lance swallowed heavily and tried desperately to stay out of Lotor’s reach.

“I will… I will try my best to give you a challenge, My Lord.”

“Good pet, you remembered...maybe I’ll give you a reward after you heal from this loss.”

Lotor smiled blindingly, then lashed out with his blade. Lance lept back and narrowly avoided the sword. He backpedaled and crouched low, trying to keep the Prince and his blade in sight. Thus begins a long game of cat and mouse. Lace did everything he could to avoid the Prince’s unforgiving weapon, and Lotor strolled after him, smiling all the while.

After a particularly acrobatic dodge, Lotor seemed to lose his patience. He stopped suddenly in the middle of fighting and crossed his arms like a petulant child.

“Darling, I have put up this effort to fight with you, not chase you. This is simply rude!”

With the Prince’s arms crossed and sword dangling listlessly in one hand, Lance saw his chance and tackled Lotor to the ground. He immediately went for the sword, wrestling it out of royal hands and pinning the Prince down as fast as possible. Lance placed the sword at the edge of Lotor’s armor and moved it to the throat after yanking the galra’s helmet off. Lance could feel Lotor’s heavy breathing from where he was sitting on the Prince’s chest. He pressed the blade into Lotor’s neck; so close to breaking skin - there was a rushing in his ears, and his vision was tinged black. One move and the cause of so much suffering would be removed, never to tinge this existence again. _Just press forwards…_

The sword thunked harshly in the sand as it dropped from Lance’s fist. The boy slid down Lotor’s legs and knelt at his feet. Lance bowed his head as the galra stood, towering above him.

“I am at my Prince’s command”

A hand descended into Lance’s vision and slowly tucked his hair behind his ear, before curling to stoke his face. Lance leaned into it, closing his eyes and bowing his head even lower.

He did not move as Lotor knelt beside him, only quietly obeyed when he was guided to rest his head in the Prince’s lap. The crowd was silent as Lotor continued to caress the fallen paladin, making the Prince’s words all the more loud as he spoke to the boy at his feet.

“Such a good pet;” He murmured. “Yes, I am going to have so much fun rewarding you.”

Lotor continued to hold Lance as he signaled for the rink to be emptied. Yes, he would move his boy once the stadium was cleared. It wouldn’t do for any jealous subjects to find his new location… The Prince hummed, satisfied with his decision, and went back to staring at Lance, stroking possessively at his lithe frame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo Lovelies,  
> Sorry to everyone who's been following this story recently, I've been an ass with my updating schedule. I know not all of you care about an author moaning and groaning, but for those of you who want to know; these past few months have been a little hard for me. I had final exams, and then lost a lot of my support system when summer break started. I've spent the last few months trying to remember how to work and interact without my counselor, and it led to a lot of mental health problems encroaching upon me that I've just started to properly cope with. Unfortunately, that makes writing hard for me, and that means less story for you. I love this fic, and you can bet your ass I'm going to continue it, but my loyal readers will have to bear with a more erratic update schedule. But, look on the bright side, that might mean I'll update more than once a month! *Tucks away draft of Chapter 9* Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the - admittedly shorter - chapter, and please give me some feedback on what you think will happen next! Au Revoir~


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